


The Binding of Loki

by solarpillar (solarwind)



Series: The thrush stands on your flesh [1]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarwind/pseuds/solarpillar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Loki was tied up, it was with his own son's entrails, by the very blood brother he had sworn to love all life. The last time Loki's mouth was sealed, it was with needle and thread. Both time were painful. Both times, other gods laughed gleefully at him, mocked him and insulted him.</p><p>This time, however, the only one laughing is himself. The duct tape makes it difficult, but he manages. It's the way his body shakes under the bonds, pressing himself closer to Naoya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Binding of Loki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleLinor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/gifts).



> Fuck. I really did write this. I'm sure that Lin is okay with this, but other readers please be careful this fic is the bloodiest I have ever written.

“I must say,” Loki licks his upper lip, “you are a really interesting human.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Naoya replies as he seals the trickster god's mouth with a large piece of duct tape.

The last time Loki was tied up, it was with his own son's entrails, by the very blood brother he had sworn to love all life. The last time Loki's mouth was sealed, it was with needle and thread. Both times were painful. Both times, other gods laughed gleefully at him, mocked him and insulted him.

This time, however, the only one laughing is himself. The duct tape makes it difficult, but he manages. It's the way his body shakes under the bonds, pressing himself closer to Naoya.

Naoya doesn't kiss. Naoya bites. His teeth are flat like a herbivore beast, and his jaws are weak from eating as little as possible all this life. And Loki is a god.

Yet the bites are still there, enough to bruise. They feel like paperclips or pigeon bites, almost painless, but they do make the skin go red before they change for green or purple. It must be the holy light in him, Loki thinks, the spirit of Abrahamic god and its descendants, curseful light that banishes all foreign gods. He lets Naoya bite him, barely moving, least the bonds leave even more scares on his body, the way they cut into his flesh whenever he struggles a bit too hard.

Magic threads. They call Cain a blacksmith, but metalwork's not the only thing he's good at. By the time Cain is Naoya, magic might as well be his primary trade, after his career in programming.

When Naoya is done with biting, he starts cutting.

He doesn't need blades. His nails, though unsharpened, cut fairly well into the god's skin. He cuts on bare, scarless skin, tracing words and pictures that Loki cannot yet see. He cuts into bruises, letting out the accumulated blood. He cuts into scars, old war scars and the poison scar on the forehead, before tearing off the duct tape, pressing his nails against the scarred lips.

Loki does not speak a word.

The first nail digs in, right into the scar of a needle hole. The second nail digs in, into the scar of a needle hole in pair with the other. Then he pinches.

Blood fills Loki's mouth. He hasn't tasted his own blood for a long, long while.

Loki blinks. Once, twice, thrice, then he whispers. He cannot remember the last time he whispered. His lips shake as he whispers, blood falling with each sound made.

_Your brother Hevel._

Naoya stops. His pupils dilate and shrink, more bird-like than human. Then he bends down.

He holds one of the threads between his teeth, and yanks. It comes off as easily as old spidersilk. And repeats, until Loki is free.

“Impressive,” Loki says, wiping blood off his own body. The gesture opens the cuts instead, and he bleeds more. Like humans, the Aesir and Jotuns bleed red. It's making a mess. Some got on Naoya, who was careful to not get more blood on him than the bit on the tips of his fingers. Good thing Naoya isn't wearing his haori, or Loki would soon find his head on a platter.

Instead, Naoya simply takes off his dirtied clothes, and mends the threads once again.

“Tell me when you are done healing yourself,” Naoya says, “I'm not done hurting you.”

“I thought healing was included in the bundle?” Loki asks, his wounds still wide open, “Unless Naoya is being a boring cheapskate, like the one you are descended from?”

Naoya grinds his teeth once, and warm energy emanates from his palms, healing all of Loki's wounds. The new bruises and cuts vanish, traceless, leaving no scar in their wake. Only old scars remain, the ones of war and ones of old punishments, of poison and needles, of rough sex with warful mistresses and male lovers, of swords and fires of Aesir and Vanir and dead human souls.

Old times. Fun times. The death was painful, but at least he wasn't bored.

Not that Loki is bored now, in Naoya's bed.

Again, the human ties up the god, starting with the ankles and ending with wrists. He ties the thighs and forces his hands between them, leaving marks with nails and healing them as he pulls out. He ties the belly and crawls on it, bites one circle and another and licks them off, healing them only half way. He ties the chest and presses his palms against the ribs, pushing until Loki is barely able to breathe, before releasing and pressing down again, feeling the heart beating wild, almost bursting from its cage. He bites at the neck, an angered animal, right on the blood vessels, but does not break them, not even bruising this time. Instead, it is painful, like needles of glass, when his teeth are still as flat as ever. He doubles the bites when Loki starts to scream, hands seizing the god's arms with such strength, Loki cannot deny that the human before him is indeed of divine breed, bones and muscles almost broken under the grasp. The bites leave the neck when Loki struggles despite the bonds, and travel south to the shoulders, then to the chest, down to the belly again.

When Loki collapses, Naoya loosens the bonds again, not with his teeth but with his fingers, nails cutting them with ease. He heals the fallen god again and, rather unnecessarily, asks if the poor bastard wants something to drink.

“A drink? Oh, Naoya...”

There is a fit of giggles and laughter, where the god mixes up Naoya's names. Then, when he's somewhat sober again, he rises, almost without difficulty, and with a hand on Naoya's shoulders, asks with his usual annoying voice:

“Do you remember that one bar in Sodom? That awesome tequila thing there. I want that.”

“It was not called a tequila, you senile dirtbag. But fine, you shall have it.”

For a nerd, Naoya sure has a great collection of alcohol.  

**Author's Note:**

> One day I was chatting with Lin I said I was disappoint that The Binding of Loki was not a bondage porn story. Yesterday, since I said last year that I would write or draw her/him something whenever s/he's feeling too down, and s/he was feeling on the verge of breaking, so... Fuck.
> 
> So The Binding of Loki is now a bondage bloodplay porn fic. You're welcome.


End file.
